


They Like Him, They Really Like Him

by Pagemistress1



Category: Battleborn (Video Game)
Genre: "Pendles is hard to write because I can't find a video with all his voicelines", "That's why I can't do Alani for the Eldrid", Camp Nanowrimo, Camp Nanowrimo 2017, Chapter Lengths Vary, Cross-Generational Friendship, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Friendship, I'm just covering my bases, Kissing, Phoebe just wonders why one of her friends and her robot kid like this guy, Post-Oscar Mike vs. the Battle School, Post-Toby's Friendship Raid, Pre-Montana vs. the Demon Bear, Ragtag Bunch of Misfits, Rated because it's Battleborn, So there's talk of violence and gory stuff and a bit of swearing, Sorry Alani!, Spent all month on this, The Rogues (Battleborn), The Rogues are all Bros, and then I go and decide on Kid Ultra for the LLC who has the same problem, bascially everyone here likes Whiskey for various reasons, but we don't get to see that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 09:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10783662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pagemistress1/pseuds/Pagemistress1
Summary: General Mike says the other Rogues don’t really care about Whiskey, they just fear him. Well, to be fair, the Rogues all fear each other to some degree, because to survive to this point you’ve got to be lucky and/or dangerous. But they like and care about him more than they fear him. Let’s go over the reasons why, along with some encounters.Chapters all posted at once, because I spent a month writing this, and I want it all up now.Written during Camp Nanowrimo  2017. I'm a 2017 Fanfic Cabin Alum.





	1. Orendi

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so my original plan for this fic was just to do all the Rogues, in alphabetical order. Then I started getting emails notifications telling me about Camp Nanowrimo, and this was a fic I really wanted to do but beyond a couple paragraphs hadn't done anything with. So when I was signing up and realized fanfiction was a category, I figured this was what I would do.
> 
> Then I set my word count for 10,000. And eventually I started realizing that trying to reach that with only five chapters wasn't going to be easy.
> 
> So I decided to add one character from each of the other factions. I sandwiched the first couple in-between the Rogues, planning to reorder them later.
> 
> Then I realized Deande had to be at the end, so I decided just to leave them all where they are.
> 
> This all came about because I thought it was unfair of General Mike to say that the Rogues were all afraid of Whiskey, so they stuck him in the kitchen. But they really are his friends.
> 
> Chapters with sections in the past tense, even if recalling dialogue, are in normal font. Sections that are actual flashbacks will be in italics. Except for Chapter Eleven, for reasons stated in those notes. There will be reminders about the italics in the appropriate chapters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First up is everyone's favorite Chaos Witch Varimorph!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason Orendi is up first has to do with the fact my original idea was to only do the Rogues, and I had decided to do them in alphabetical order. Then I decided to do this story for Camp NaNoWriMo, and set my word count for 10,000, and that idea was gone because I soon was adding in chapters in-between them.
> 
> This was one of the first parts I started writing, anyways.

There’s a lot of reasons why Orendi likes Whiskey.

Reason the first: He’s a really pretty color. A pretty purply-blue that the Phoebe later called indigo and now wished she hadn’t because Orendi kept purposefully irking her by pronouncing it in-DIE-go. He snickered if he was around when she did, because of the look Phoebe got on her face.

Reason the second: His reactions are fun. If you say something he finds genuinely funny on the battlefield, he’ll laugh. A deep laugh that come from deep down in his squishy guts. If an enemy says something to piss him off while being really stupid, he’ll get a look on his that says “I’m going to enjoy hurting you far more than I probably should.” If you were getting on his nerves, he didn’t try to hide it.

Reason the third: He’s nice. One time, before they joined the Battleborn, Reyna wouldn’t let her go on a mission because they needed to do something without drawing too much attention for once. It hadn’t ended that way, so that just made her madder. She was thinking about giving Reyna a reason to need her eyepatch (though that would make her more of a pirate, so all that would do was piss her off and make her cooler), when Whiskey showed her a video he made to cheer her up. He’d piled up a bunch of bodies, and set them on fire. It was one of the nicest things someone had ever done for her.

Reason the fourth: His cooking made her feel happy in a way that usually only brutal, bloody and gorey violence and chaos could. Bosslady said it was because even if he was a defective clone, he still had an urge to be the best at whatever he put him mind to, to put his all into it like a soldier did at winning a battle, even if he’d been shoved into the role of a cook like a stake through the heart because the morons in the UPR who had put him there because they hadn’t known what to do with someone who actually had “not dying if avoidable” as a life goal. Once she told her that, Orendi found she could taste the “all” he put in it.

She’d even told him so, once. He’d grinned his sharky grin and thanked her for the compliment, but asked that she not word it like that in the future, because it actually sounded a little gross and the others might misunderstand her.

She didn’t really understand what he was talking about, but telling him had him wondering just how old she was, and anyways she didn’t want to ruin their friendship of blood and fire any more than she wanted her friendship with her bestie Shayne to be ruined so she agreed.

“Is that what our friendship is, blood and fire?” He’d asked the first time she mentioned it to him. “Not that I mind, you know.”

“Blood, fire, sharp teeth, and multiple eyeballs!” she’d cackled. Her creepy giggle fit was cut short by a gasp as a very important question popped into her skull, “Should I put another eye on my forehead!?”

He’d stared at her, long and hard, before he reached over to grab her shoulder. “Hey. I know you Varimorphs’ whole thing is about being able to adapt and change like that,” he snapped the fingers of his free hand. “But don’t feel like you need change your body or your crazy personality in order to make other people like you or anything.” He paused before adding, “Unless, you know, it’s a life or death thing, but you should feel free to get rid of it as soon as you can.”

Orendi had, of course, responded to his touching reassurance that she was fine the way she was as well as insight into how he felt about himself in an appropriate manner. Asking him if he meant that she didn’t need another eye in her head in order to be killing buddies who wrote “Insert-Subject” Died: Part II You Died Again stories together.

He’d smiled as he reassured her that they could do it anytime they were on a mission team.

She spent the next week inviting him to play board games with her, the pieces they came with all replaced with ones made of the bones of people she’d killed she really didn’t like or pretty sparkly shiny rocks.

All of this connects to reason the fifth of why she likes him. Because she likes that he likes her the way she is, even if she probably bugs him sometimes. He probably wouldn’t allow her in the kitchen at all after the “Incident” if he didn’t, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whiskey kinda misunderstood that Orendi wasn't asking if she should put a third eye on her head because she wanted him to like her. She was honestly asking if he thought it would look good.
> 
> I've no idea how old Orendi is, but I think her not understanding the innuendo in what she said is more a lack of interest in such matters than not knowing at all.
> 
> For those wondering, yes, some of the game pieces Orendi has are made with gems. She cut them all with her laser eyes. The whole bone thing does unsettle the Rogues, but she tends to behave when playing board games (she says weird shit, still, but she doesn't do much beyond yell when losing or accusing dice or spinners of cheating), so it balances out.
> 
> Just what was the Incident that made it so Orendi can't be in the kitchen alone? Well, you'll get another hint later.
> 
> Comments are appreciated.
> 
> Next up is the only clone in the UPR anymore.


	2. Oscar Mike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next is the game's Launcher of a Thousand Ships, who isn't being shipped at all in this fic, Oscar Mike!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oscar’s chapter is second because I did attempt to just keep doing chapters with characters alphabetically. Again, this idea was abandoned. Still, this was when I decided to have a character from each faction in this fic. Oscar’s the obvious choice for the UPR.

Oscar was rather unashamed to admit that Whiskey was something of a hero to him. Honestly, before the original Planet Mike went dark, he was a hero to a lot of the clones. His bro, now Queen Mike, was one of them, even. 

Honestly, he wasn’t sure how there were clones that didn’t see him like that. Whiskey probably had the highest battle survival rate ever. Heck, the UPR might have put him in a non-combat position just so other clones didn’t get ideas that it might be better to actually try to survive, since most of them were dicks likes that (present company excluded, even Benedict, and he didn’t like him). 

And after that, the murder squads they kept sending after him kept getting murdered themselves. Sure, they kept saying how he was a “dangerous, defective clone”, but for clones like Oscar, there was only two words going through their minds when they heard stories about him: 

So. Cool. 

And now he got to work with the guy! Sure, he seemed to annoy the guy more often than not (at first), but they used to say that he killed Peacekeepers on sight, and seeing as they were all still alive, if he wasn’t going to kill him for that, then he wouldn’t kill him just for bugging him. 

And he really did seem to be as cool as he always thought he would be. But… not the way Oscar kept trying to be. Like, he was so badass, he didn’t need to try to be badass and cool. He could be however he wanted to be. 

It meant he could things like listen to Oscar when he freaked out over spiders, and didn’t make fun of him for it or anything. He even told him once that the poetry he wrote about them and what and how they freaked him out was not a half-bad way of dealing with it. And pull him out of the way if he didn’t notice someone was aiming at him in a fight. And agreeing with him that, yeah, Benedict really was pretty annoying, though apparently Whiskey had met worse. Oscar wasn’t sure how someone could be worse, but was inclined to believe him. 

It also meant that he would come to Planet Mike, a place that he really wasn’t supposed to be allowed on at all, while he (Oscar, not Whiskey, because Oscar had offered to let him join and he’d turned it down) was undergoing his trials. He avoided giving a direct answer on why until after General Mike insulted his occupation. Then Whiskey had told him that, no matter how much “the obnoxious jerk general” might try to piss him off and insult him, that he would be back for the next one to make sure the other Mikes were treating him alright. 

And he was! It took everything he had to not act like a stupid fanboy when he did, though focusing on his trial helped. 

Sure, he did skip the fifth trial over something they said in the fourth trial (okay, and a few after that, but since he still had to actually do stuff with the other Rogues and those times weren’t after any sort of incident, they weren’t as important), but they had made things a little awkward for him by asking for more information about his relationship with Miss Deande (turned out they were in a pretty serious relationship), so Oscar couldn’t blame him too much for that. People probably didn’t ask him about relationship stuff a lot. This had probably been the first time Mike clones had ever asked him. They were lucky he had answered. 

In fact, at first glance, all the interest he showed in Planet Mike’s society seemed a little weird. Unless you were Oscar Mike and had gotten a letter with some life advice from him that you absolutely had not freaked out over getting. Then you figured it out after a little bit. 

No matter what he said, Whiskey did care about the Mike clones. They were, after all, the closest thing to blood family he had, even if none of them were from the same batch. And like all of them, being alone and not having a connection to anyone bothered him. And since he figured out how to make them without coming across as a tool, in his own way he wanted to help them figure it out. Since the others seemed to be doing fine, though, he didn’t need to be direct about it like he did with Oscar. 

Which was cool with him. He kinda liked the idea of Whiskey being more of a personal mentor for him. 

Oscar had actually expected him to deny it when he told him that. Instead, he’d just given him a look before chuckling and telling him he wouldn’t quite call it that after giving him a friendly punch on the arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do realize that not every playthrough of that DLC has the same dialogue, so I tried to imply that. My best guess for why is that the rounds are a lot longer than what you play in the simulator, so the parts where different topics are being discussed are divided up and each made into their own subruns, and randomized for which one comes up when the simulation is run.
> 
> Next is our favorite robot nanny turned hero.
> 
> Comments are appreciated.


	3. Kid Ultra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally intended to be a robot nanny, the Magna Carta ditched the Magnuses just as he was switched on. Using information from superhero stuff meant for kids, he kept his sanity by deciding to be a hero. Ladies and Gentlemen, it's Kid Ultra this time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of these two being friends is very non-canon, as far as I can tell. But I was struggling to decide which LLC member to use, and then I decided to go with some the one who was canonically wandering the remains of the universe and at one point wound up in the Detritus Ring, home of the Rogues.
> 
> So, obviously, there's a reason for him to have encountered Whiskey before the game.

Kid Ultra had first met Whiskey Foxtrot when he had been travelling the galaxy fighting crime. 

The big guy had been hurt pretty bad, so he’d done what any hero would do and taken care of him. He hadn’t been much for fighting at the time, but he’d been good at taking care of people. He’d been confused when he’d told him his thanks were all the payment he needed, which he’d realized meant he wasn’t often able to simply ask for help. And after voicing his realization out loud, Whiskey had told him a bit about his past. And after hearing his sad tale, Kid Ultra gave him a lollipop. 

The purple alien had laughed, then. Reassured him that it wasn’t at him, just the fact he had actually been saved and was being comforted by a “superhero robot kid”. 

Then he patted him on the back, told him to keep in mind that there was a lot of shades of grey between black and white, took the lollipop (raspberry, Kid Ultra remembered that. he tried to keep track of them so he knew when to get more), and told him “next time we meet, let’s hope I’m not bleeding again”. 

It’s a few years later, when next they meet. The Last Light Consortium had found him with help from Captain Ghalt, and he’d been reunited with Phoebe Hemsworth, his creator (the old man, Kleese, had been annoyed when talking about his heroics, but she had looked proud and that had been all that mattered). He’d been upgraded with weapons to be a different kind of hero and help fight the Varelsi. 

And then, one day, he’d come back from a mission, and there he’d been. Whiskey’d clapped him on the back, said he’d been watching him on the monitor, and told him he’d become quite the powerhouse. 

He means it, when he says things like that. Kid Ultra’s heard him be sarcastic and condescending, and he never uses that tone with him. “I like having reasons to live,” He’d told him once. “And I like people who give me more reasons to live. One of the reasons you gave just happens to be a never-ending supply of lollipops. Seriously, how do you not run out?” 

While it is true that Whiskey often ends up getting a lollipop whenever they hang out, Kid Ultra doesn’t think that’s the only reason. It’s only during a quiet moment, without any prompting from him, that he tells him what the other is. 

“You thought I was worth saving. I might have been okay, but you made sure I was. Just because it was the right thing. You’re my hero because you saved me.” 

Then he’d given him a one armed hug. 

And that is one of the things Kid Ultra likes about him. Whiskey Foxtrot is one of the people who doesn’t just call him a hero when he helps them during dangerous moments. He tells him during the calm ones, when Kid Ultra isn’t expecting it all. 

Kid Ultra has had to learn that the world isn’t all the black and white. There’s all sorts of grey in between. The Rogues are criminals, but not bad people. You don’t become friends with someone like Whiskey, wind up spending times with his other friends either because of him or because of missions, you learn things like that. And he’s glad he has learned these things, met them, and met him, because if he wants to be a good hero, he should be able to look at things from other perspectives. 

And all the different ways of thinking from the Battleborn, especially when you count a fellow like Whiskey Foxtrot as an ally, are really good at that sort of thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since there's no compliation of his voicelines on a video, I had to use the info I could find on him for this chapter.
> 
> Kid Ultra was originally meant to take care of kids, which I think includes looking after their health. So he's got a supply of lollipops that are actually good for you, and taste good. No one knows just where they come from.
> 
> One of the fan favorites is up next, if he's not out on a job.
> 
> Comments are appreciated.
> 
> I wasn't sure if the paragraph about things not being black and white was needed, but I had it in my head and didn't want to lose it. Plus, I think being friends with Whiskey is an eye-opening experience.
> 
> It's a known fact that Whiskey is a jerk to people unless they do something to earn his respect. The fact that Kid Ultra isn't just some crazy Magnus going around asking Rogues to change their ways, but would do what he could to take care of them if they were hurt when he has no way to defend himself, that's what Whiskey respects.
> 
> The scene where they first met was a little before Whiskey started working closely with Reyna, and thus had regular access to healing for free.
> 
> Whiskey likes the flavor of the suckers more than he likes the sugar, btw.
> 
> Comments are appreciated.


	4. Pendakka “Pendles” Lakonna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CEO of Executive Executions, this chapter looks at Whiskey from the perspective of Pendles, everyone!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pendles was hard, because where I had recordings of quotes for most other characters in this fic, the person who made them hasn’t done anything for the characters who were added later. …and then I later added another character that I had the same problem with. Because I like making things hard on myself.
> 
> Italics means flashback here, folks.

Pendles likes Whiskey Foxtrot because he gets it. 

He gets his desire to not let what he is hold him back from doing what he wants. For Whiskey, that had meant fighting and getting away anytime some RDC grunts caught up with him to put him down just because he was a defective clone. He learned how to think on his feet, just like Pendles had to on his very first job. Hell, Whiskey had learned to do that on the job they’d given him, and then been upset that he’d done that, just like him. Funny how he ran into the fella who gave it to him again, both afterwards and years later, he hadn’t been happy to see him. 

So, that was one other thing that Whiskey got, the knowledge that you did a job right, and somehow the person who gave it to you wasn’t always going to be happy about it. 

Admittedly, they’d had a somewhat… rough start. Upon hearing of his occupation, Whiskey had taken him to the kitchen, picked up a wicked looking knife to peel and julienne some carrots (he’d informed him you didn’t chop carrots, you julienned them), that he barely tried to pretend wasn’t to make a point. Then he’d told him that, if he took a hit on any of them, he’d cut off his other arm and serve it to him chopped up, deep fried, and served on skewers. 

As far as threats went, it had honestly been one of the better ones he’d heard. And rather effective, since he was rather attached to his remaining arm (pun not intended), and if he’d hated the idea of losing due to biology… actually, no, losing it forcefully was probably an even level of hate. 

Whiskey only ever brought the threat up again once, after the incident dubbed by Nova as “Toby’s Friendship Raid” (they’d agreed because any name they’d come up with was worse), for obvious reason. 

_“Honestly, my good man, I was a bit insulted he asked. I do happen to like all of you. …and, you know, Alani would never speak to me again for killing friends.” She was at the top of his list to not kill for any amount of money for a reason._

_If Whiskey had an eyebrow, it’d be raised if the expression on his face had been any indicator. “So… the arm threat really had nothing to do with it?”_

_“…I suppose I couldn’t say it didn’t serve as incentive that I made the right call. Not lying when I say I actually like you lot, though,” he’d added. “It’s sorta fun comparing kills and seeing who has more interesting ones.”_

And then the conversation had moved on to “kill share story time” (Nova had called it that, once, and none of them could think of anything else). 

Which was another reason he liked Whiskey Foxtrot; really interesting survival stories. 

_“You’re pulling my leg, Trot.”_

_“Why would I make up escaping death by going through a swarm of bees?”_

_Pendles leaned back in his seat, “Okay, how did they not sting you to death, then?”_

_Whiskey smirked, “Easy. Bees hate fast movements. All I had to do was move slowly. The morons hoping to turn me in didn’t think there was a reason I was moving weird. Well, one guy did, and he was left figuring out a way to slowly drag someone when I was boarding a ship out of there.” At the thoughtful look on the assassin’s face, he rolled his visible eye, “You’re trying to figure out a way to use that on a job, aren’t you?”_

_“You’re the one who put the idea in my head!”_

_“I kill a man with a f**king boat oar, and using bees to escape some chumps hoping to earn a quick buck is what impresses you?”_

_“You know what would really impress me? If you actually could make someone burst in to flames just by having them look at your face.” Pendles took a drink and frowned, “Seriously, what’s that all about?”_

_Whiskey looked nostalgic at the question. “Oh, man, that’s a fun survival story! I’d just met up with the boss for the first time since Ekkunar, when she saved my ass during a raid, and let me tell you, I was tired. And I mean really f**king tired. I was emotionally and physically exhausted. Reyna’s first official order, after smacking me on the shoulder, was for me to “let me grab the supplies and get some damn sleep, cause you look like a zombie,”” He quoted in a Reyna-ish voice. “I might have thought about disobeying, since she took a cut of the goods the last time, but she was using her “don’t argue” voice. You know the one.”_

_Pendles did know the one, and nodded in confirmation. It’d gotten him to stop taking Toby’s snacks without permission and going into Ambra’s room to mess with her stuff._

_“Anyways,” the clone continued, “Try as I might, something just kept causing my brain to wake up before I actually could, though. When finally, f**king finally, I start to fall asleep, I hear some annoyingly familiar voices asking Reyna about me.” He let out a spine-tingling chuckle, “Murder containment chumps were hassling my new boss, trying to take me down, and keeping me from my beauty sleep, and I was not going to have any of that shit.”_

_Pendles wisely kept from saying anything about the phrase “beauty sleep”._

_“I got out of bed, grabbed a couple bottles of booze, some rags, and a lighter. I opened the door to outside the shuttle, and one of the guys got a good look at me without my helmet before I threw the Molotov cocktails at his head, and then a grenade at the group in general just because before I pulled Reyna inside. Then I just went back to bed. She must have had the shuttle loaded already, cause we were in space when I woke up. Wasn’t sure it’d happened until she told me.”_

If it had been anyone else, at any other time, Pendles might have called bullshit. But he’s part of the Rogue faction of the Battleborn, and it was Whiskey Foxtrot. Strange and impossible things are par for the course for the former, and Whiskey is himself a strange fellow. 

But he’s just as much his friend as Alani is (not the same way, though, because he’s known her forever, and she’s his sea buddy), and really, there’s nothing wrong at all with having strange friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be so disappointed if they ever say where that rumor in his lore that says looking at his face causes you to burst into flames really came from. Because this probably isn't it.
> 
> Pendles will apparently not kill the Rogues for any price, if Toby's Friendship Raid is anything to go by.
> 
> Pendles wound up with one of the longer chapters. Not sure how that happened, beyond trying to make my word count and having ideas.
> 
> Reyna is Team Mom, guys. We all know it. And she probably has a tone of voice that you pretty much have to obey.
> 
> The bee thing came from an episode of Puss in Boots. The boat oar thing came from one of the few things about Musashi I readily remember. I think it was less "carved it into a sword" and more "beat a guy to death with it", but I like the idea of Whiskey defaulting to whatever he can grab in a fight.
> 
> I like to think some of the odder DLC names are from Nova naming them if no one else does.
> 
> Speaking of which, guess who gets chapter 5?
> 
> Comments are appreciated.


	5. Nova

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's favorite NPC Magnus, Nova, is up for this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Okay, you’re running out of factions, who’s left?”  
> “Well, Nova technically works with the UPR, but she’s the only NPC who could regularly interact with him, and potentially positively. Plus, she’s an announcer, too. Everyone knows Announcers count as neutral parties.”
> 
> So there’s the logic. Plus, she reminds me of my favorite Borderlands NPC, Patricia Tannis, and not just her voice.

Nova liked most of the Battleborn. Those she didn’t, she tolerated, because Ghalt needed them, and Ghalt had kept her from going too crazy, so she owed him, and that meant no killing Kleese. 

But they’d been gradual things, learning to like them. Ghalt she’d always liked, and the members of the UPR who chose to follow him tended to worm their way into her metaphorical heart somehow. 

But the other factions, who in one way or another where opposites of the UPR, had been slower to happen. 

Whiskey Foxtrot had involved bonding over a hatred they turned out to share for “Doesn’t Deserve to be Called by His Title” Conrad, who’d been very vocally against Foxtrot’s continued existence, and had actually suggested blowing up Nova after the Severance. The troglodyte had even suggested throwing Oscar Mike out of an airlock after the Mikes won their independence, stating that he could have been a spy and thus a sign they wanted to get rid of the UPR. 

“Seriously? Dear god, how has that man kept his job?” Whiskey had asked when she told him that. 

“They had to finish training a replacement, and then find a way to legitimately send him into the field so he could hopefully have his brains blown out. I may or may not, though if Ghalt asks, I did not, have helped by hacking his computer terminal so that Jim could learn a little faster." 

“This Jim have a Mobius strip tattooed onto his dominant arm and amber eyes?” 

“Yes.” 

“I knew that guy! He locked himself into a closet when I left so he had a legit reason for not stopping me when I ran into him.” He smiled fondly, “Ah, man, I should send him a message when things calm down a bit.” 

Nova had enjoyed the talk so much, having someone who really got what her problem had been with Conrad (essentially, if anyone who hadn’t been born from a womb couldn’t just to what they were told, they had no right to exist in his mind), that she eventually messaged him (Jim, not Conrad. He was really dead at this point) on Whiskey’s behalf, attaching a picture she’d covertly taken that showed he was onboard her. 

And she eventually messaged him because, callous as it might sound, it wasn’t high on the list of important things to do to take down Rendain. But she made it ahead of time, along with messages for people connected to some of the other Battleborn. Sending them might have been low priority (and potentially dangerous), but she got bored and as more than one person had told her, it was better to do something productive. 

She paid attention to him, of course. She paid attention to everyone as much as she could, the reasons ranging from genuine interest, making sure no one was up to anything against the group’s interests, and amusement. He fell under interest and amusement, like the majority of them. 

For instance, while he did not literally eat shit for breakfast, he certainly ate some bizarre things that could fit the loose definition of shit often used by others. Some of which included the things that Phoebe made when she felt like being creative. Nova wasn’t even sure if he was doing it to be nice or just didn’t care so long as it was still edible. He and Oscar certainly never suffered any consequences to their health from them. 

Some might assume he’d started learning piano to impress a certain Jennerit spymistress, but from what she’d been able to dig up, he’d been interested sometime before that. it seemed the only thing stopping him before was a lack of access to the instrument, used only once to smuggle something onboard at the last second that no one wanted to bother getting off after all the work getting it on. 

Above all else, though, was just how comfortable he was with himself. He really owned the whole “badass defective clone” thing, and for all that he didn’t enjoy having his interests or hobbies made fun of, he didn’t hide them once they were revealed. And anyone it seemed like he should have something against for some connection to bad things in his life was never an outlet for his ire. Rather, he saw them as connected to something that made him who he was. 

It practically almost made Nova think she should maybe give Kleese a break. 

…nah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phoebe’s problem is that she keeps thinking she can do it better while having never needed to cook before. They are working on getting her to accept lessons. She does fine if she actually follows the instructions.
> 
> After Rendain was taken care of, Nova did send those messages.
> 
> Jim's like Montana in that it doesn't really matter where you came from to him. Since he'd get in trouble if he just let Whiskey leave and they were in an area with no cameras, he just locked himself in a closet and pretended he was shoved in there. They literally saw each other when Whiskey turned into a hallway he was in, and he just walked into a closet and smashed the keypad inside when the door closed.
> 
> Conrad is just some guy I randomly came up with who was a dick. He is definitely dead, now, so don't expect him to ever turn out not to be. He isn't missed.
> 
> Next chapter is about someone with an awesome cap.
> 
> Comments are appreciated.


	6. Miko

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miko, the sentient ninja healer fungus is up for chapter 6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My muse for this story told me these two were friends. There’s no evidence for it, but I liked the idea. Gave me an excuse to listen to their voice lines, too. Plus, the only other Eldrid I wanted to do was Alani, and I had the same problem as Pendles, there. 
> 
> …and then I added the Kid Ultra chapter, which you’ve already read, where I still had to deal with that problem. Sorry, Alani!
> 
> Italics means flashback.

Under normal circumstances, perhaps Miko would not have befriended Whiskey Foxtrot.<

As it stands, though, the universe is close to ending, Miko is the last of their kind, and he is the last of his batch of clones, and so they have something to start a conversation about. 

And yet, oddly, that was not what their first conversation had been about…

“You okay?” 

Miko looked up from where they had been clenching and unclenching their digits. “We… do not like heights. We are not meant to be untethered from the ground like this.” 

The purple clone had nodded. “Yeah. Being on a ship going toward or away from the ground is different from being on a ship in space.” 

“It is… embarrassing, though. We did not used to have this problem. But then we became the last and…” they had sighed, “It is easier when with the other Eldrid, but when around unfamiliar beings, or if it happens suddenly in battle.” 

“Yeah, friends can really help when it comes to making things you hate suck less.” 

He had asked them to tell him about their friends, then, to take their mind off of it. They informed him they were not much good at such small talk, but he assured them that he wasn’t “asking for top quality shit.” He expressed some amazement that they counted Phoebe as one, though admitted this was due to not knowing her well beyond the fact that the Chaos Witch did not like her. 

That had turned into a short debate over whether Orendi had a good reason to not like her, and before Miko had known it, the trip was over. 

There had not been time to continue the discussion on the trip back to Nova; the mission had been quite successful, and they and the others with them had been in high spirits. Happily, the time had been spent recounting events that had just happened had taken precedence. 

(It was not until an early morning sometime after that mission that they had a chance to even thank him. they had been walking past the mess hall when they heard his voice coming from the open kitchen door, singing some sort of song about drinking with intoxicated seafarers.) 

Miko would not say they were necessarily close friends, but they felt they could count him as a friend. Whiskey Foxtrot turned out to be an interesting philosophical debate partner, and a fair poker player (he lost to them more than he won, but seemed to do it for the social aspect of it during their games). He was willing to let them (and others) hang around in the kitchen while he worked so long as they did nothing foolish and helped keep an eye on Orendi if she was in there as well (all the Rogues were rather evasive when it came to explaining why, though apparently it was quite the mess). 

Eventually, of course, during their occasional chats, the subject of being the last came up, as unpleasant matters had a habit of doing. 

_“Someone we spoke to once called us a “Last Child”, the last living member of a race. Usually, he told us, one is referred to as either a “Last Son” or “Last Daughter”, but when one is like us, “Last Child” is used,” They said, looking into the glass of water he had given them. “We suppose that, these days, we are no longer the only ones who have this title.”_

_He was silent for a few moments, leaning back in his chair so that it stood on two legs and dared the artificial gravity to make him fall. “What if,” he finally said, “you’re the last of a particular batch of clones? That no other clones who came after you were made the same way? And you knew you were the last, because you’d watched all the others die, one way or another?” He leaned forward, fast enough that his balance had no time to realize it had been upset before the front legs hit the floor with a “thud”, “Would someone be a last son then?”_

_Miko had been somewhat aware of his history; one of the things everyone on Nova, including Nova herself, took some enjoyment out of was gossiping or “sharing information” as those who thought the former sounded petty preferred to call it. They had not put much thought to how affected he was by such events. But now that he was more than just someone they knew was on their side, they certainly were._

_“We think that, perhaps, the term could also be used for the last surviving member of a family,” They finally said. “It is not how the term is usually applied, but in that sense, one such as you is also a “Last Son”.”_

_After a moment of silence, they added, “We find, though, that being a “Last Child” is not as lonely as one would think, provided one has good companionship.”_

_His somber mood had broken slightly as he chuckled, “Yeah.”_

The exchange, the admitted sense of loss they both felt, the knowledge that despite that, they were not alone, had been cathartic. And they could not say that he was the only one who needed to hear a conclusion that had already been found (and he clearly had, considering his closeness with his friends, the quick exchanges of affection between himself and Deande) once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, I'm gonna write a poker night fic because of this chapter.
> 
> There really are a lot of Battleborn who are the last their kind, it seems. I feel like Miko, being one themselves, tends to make friends with them. And while it doesn't come up much for them, I think Whiskey probably has some issues from the whole "all my clone brothers are dead" thing, which he usually deals with by making new friends.
> 
> Miko and Whiskey aren't what you'd call best friends. But they are friends.
> 
> Miko seems to be okay with space travel, but if you listen to their voice lines for being thrown in the air, they seem really uncomfortable. I figure that when you know this is the only body you have left, the thought of falling to your death can be troubling. Plus, there's no one else in the hive mind any more who could distract you from the thought.
> 
> I know that Miko is canonically the last one, but they have to try to reach out with their connection. I mean, they're already all fighting an impossible battle against the Varelsi. Might as well see if anyone will answer a call, right?
> 
> I first came across the term Last Son from this DC novel. It's a pretty good book, and involved three of DC's famous Last Sons, Superman, Martian Manhunter, and Lobo. The term Last Daughter also came up, so I figured Last Child could work, too.
> 
> One of the most important Rogues is up next chapter.
> 
> Comments are appreciated.


	7. Reyna Valeria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Valkyrie, aka Team Mom, Reyna Valeria is up here, guys!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reyna and Whiskey's relationship is part parental, part siblingesque, part "Oh, right, one of us outranks the other, don't they?"
> 
> Italics means flashback.

Reyna would be the first to point out that the point of the Rogues was to not have much of a command structure. She was, essentially, in charge because she had put the call out, and being in charge meant she had to sit in at meetings instead of them unless it was necessary. 

But she always found herself looking out for them like a leader, the way Ghalt did. It was nice, working with people she knew weren’t going to stab her in the back. Before them, the closest thing she had to a friend, like, a good one she could drink with or laugh about dumb shit they got into was Ghalt (and if she called him Trevor sometimes when they did, that was nobody else’s damn business). 

It didn’t take long for her to figure out it’d been too damn long since Whiskey got to do that when he joined. Guy had connections, sure. But he’d been running to stay ahead of the UPR too much to form many connections. And the ones he could have been doing that stuff with, his clone brothers, they were dead. 

_“Lotta people mighta decided living was too hard after that sorta crap, you know?”_

_“Means I gotta stay alive for them, doesn’t it?”_

It actually kinda amazed her he wasn’t more screwed up from that. In a way, though, it seemed like all the Rogues she trusted were like that; they’d gone through hell, saw some shit, but didn’t let it break them. In Orendi’s case, it might have been because she was already nuts, but still. 

She was glad for that. She wouldn’t have let him anywhere near the kitchen if he was too crazy. And frankly, she was the best cook after him, and she could only do simple stuff. First time she’d ever caught him cooking, she’d tasted it and responding to his question of her approval by asking if he wanted to be their cook. He’d actually been confused by the fact she actually asked, instead of telling him. Reyna figured he must just be used to being told to do it, or actually asking for the job when he needed it. 

He was also probably the only other member of the Rogues she felt like she could really vent to about her responsibilities. Well, him and Toby, since they were the only two she could safely say were adults like her, but she’d only recently really started seeing Toby as one (he’d seemed too young, even at twenty six when they met). She didn’t have a problem venting to people from other factions, but sometimes you needed people who understood your perspective better (“Oh my god, how does anyone get anything done if they need to fill out paperwork so damn much!?” “Is the UPR really like this? I’m starting to think that I lucked out when I didn’t get in.” “Oh please, you’re just writing mission reports. Try filling out requisition forms.”) 

Of course, after everything that happened with the Lorrian, she’d had to talk to Whiskey about what happened just like all the others who hadn’t been there (which had, unfortunately, been most of them) granted, after talking with Shayne and Aurox and Orendi, she started to think she should have started with him, or just called a freaking meeting to get it done at once. 

“So, instead of just asking people who you regularly trust with your life and the safety of what’s left of the universe, but you couldn’t trust us to help you save your planet, or let us know the person you decided to trust instead was harassing you so that we could take care of him?” He’d given her a look, “Gonna be honest, I’m more insulted by the latter than the former.” 

She’d sighed, “Yeah, I’ve been hearing that quite a bit. Even from Pendles, and an assassin being disappointed in you hurts more than you’d think.” 

“But, like Toby said, not like any of us haven’t been there before. I actually went from trusting, to not trusting, and then learned how to trust again. Pretty quick, if I’m honest, but still. I mean, I’ve trusted you since you saved my misshapen ass on Ekkunar, and in case you forgot, I like telling that story.” 

“So… you forgive me?” God, she’d hoped she hadn’t sounded as pathetic as she thought it did. 

He’d stared at her for a moment. Then, before she could blink, he’d lifted a hand up and smacked her across the back of her head. 

He’d chuckled as she rubbed the back of her head, “Yeah, we’re good.” 

Whiskey Foxtrot was a good friend. The kind you could talk to, that could praise, and smack a little sense into you if need be, and was willing to let you do the same if it came down to it. Though if she had not smacked him herself when he was being stupid once, she probably would have something to say about being literal that time. 

He was just lucky that little celebration for their victory over Thaddeus he put together, and breaking out the good alcohol, made up for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being in charge means Reyna needs to keep track of things, which means she needs to write stuff down. And then they joined the Battleborn and someone said they should all do mission reports. Part of the reason no one argues about Reyna being in charge is the fact that no one else wants to deal with that.
> 
> Foxtrot has the most experience cooking for a lot of people with a variety of dishes. Reyna never really had to cook for a lot of people before, so simple stuff like sandwiches, things with instructions on boxes, and breakfast is about all she has. Toby can cook, but the kitchen isn't really built in a way that he could easily do it, and he doesn't really do non-fish dishes. Pendles is similar, only with meat. Shayne tends to roast stuff, since cooking food is a way to kill bacteria, and she didn't really have a home. Aurox eats shards and can't cook at all. Orendi... isn't allowed.
> 
> Yeah, I got the impression that Reyna probably felt like apologizing to all the Rogues, not just Toby, after it was revealed she didn't ask them for help because she didn't want to seem weak in front of them. And sometimes, even if you know someone has forgiven you, you need to hear them say that you're forgiven.
> 
> For those interested, Phoebe and ISIC were invited to that party, since they did help.
> 
> The Teen Detectives are up next.
> 
> Comments are appreciated.


	8. Shayne Aura Mander and Aurox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two for one chapter with Shayne and Aurox and their relationships with Whiskey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated giving them each their own, separate chapter. Then I realized it was easier to have a longer chapter by combining them.
> 
> Fun fact, the person who made videos of all the voicelines for most of the important characters? Yeah, they decided it made more sense to give these two separate videos… when they have voicelines of them interacting.

Shayne had actually met Whiskey once before all of this. 

She’d been young (aka thirteen) and stupid enough to think stealing food from a guy like him was a good idea. He’d caught her, of course; she wasn’t any good at being sneaky back then. 

He’d looked annoyed when he grabbed her wrist, and kinda terrifying, glaring at her behind his broken helmet, the sight of his visible yellow eye narrowed and his sharp teeth bared in a scowl sent a chill all the way down her spine. 

But then, when he actually looked at her, it’d slid off his face from each feature one by one, like a rock rolling and bouncing down a hill, leaving a blank expression behind. Then he’d just… stared at her, for a moment, before finally letting go of her wrist and just offering the food to her. 

Well, after being caught, thirteen-year-old Shayne wasn’t gonna be pitied on top of it, and told him where he could shove his pity and just what it could do there. 

He’d surprised her by laughing and telling her to put that mouth to use in a trade. Before she could assume anything, he asked if she was any good at stories. 

And he’d actually listened to it, too. He didn’t look away, or look bored. He’d been genuinely interested in the story she made up as she went, commenting on certain parts, even telling her at one point that “no, see, you don’t actually bleed that much from there. Trust me, I’ve stabbed someone there before.” 

It’d been… well, nice. Having an adult listen to her and take her seriously had meant a lot. And when he left her with the food, he’d told her to have more stories to tell him if they met again. And to be careful, because not all strangers were gonna be like him (which she already knew, but kinda appreciated the intent). 

The best part was that he remembered her three years later. He hadn’t changed much beyond a few scars, but Shayne knew she’d gotten taller and filled out more, not to mention her awesome new hairstyle. 

“You still like interesting stories?” she’d asked when she saw him. 

He’d turned at the sound of her voice, “Thought the girl named Shayne Reyna described sounded familiar. Nice to know you’re still alive.” 

Him being there had totally helped reassure her and Aurox (mostly Aurox, she had been pretty confident in the whole venture the entire time no matter what he would say) that joining up with the Rogues was gonna be okay. Sure, yeah, they tended to alternate between treating her like an adult and a kid, which was annoying, but Toby had told her once that was something families did when you were in your teens. 

It was a weird feeling, actually having a family. Whiskey had once pointed out to her that plenty of the Battleborn were orphans. He’d actually started listing names, before realizing that technically the whole “stars going dark” thing meant even more of them were orphans of a kind. She’d interrupted to point out just how depressing this was and asked for a point. 

“Look, the point is, each faction is a place someone can belong, and now we’re all working together and getting to know each other. We’re all family now, even if some members aren’t as bearable as others. Bring a bunch of orphans together, and sometimes they become family.” 

Then he had pulled her into a hug, “whether you like it or not.” 

Honestly, between the hugs, the listening, the hanging out, the fighting together, teasing her, and keeping her stocked in her favorite juice (chef connections so rocked), Shayne had to say that Whiskey turned out to make for a decent brother figure that she doesn’t mind having.

* * *

Aurox had never had much reason to have an opinion on organic beings, at least beyond either annoyance or amusement at their reactions, and occasionally tasty. Not until one, a mere adolescent girl, managed to bind him to her. Now he was around them all the time, whether he wanted to be or not, and when that happens, one starts having opinions on them as individuals. One of those opinions was that he may have possibly found being forcibly bound to an organic being bearable if it had been someone such as, say, Whiskey. Even if he was of the erroneous opinion that the energy being was growing fond of the teen. 

And that was part of the reason why, when Shayne was asleep, he would talk to him, keeping their voices low to not wake her. Aurox isn’t sure if on Whiskey’s part the courtesy is for Shayne, or to give him a break from her. She tended to sleep well if she was in a place she considered safe (which was not in any way a sign that he was concerned for her wellbeing that he noticed that sort of thing), so she hadn’t woken up yet. 

And it was… pleasant, talking to someone who could better understand his love of carnage, even if Whiskey didn’t take part in it to the degree that he did. And to have someone he could share his grievances with, even if he had an annoying tendency to also try to see things from the girl’s point of view. 

Actually, he did that even when Shayne was awake. He and Reyna were the only two Rogues who actually tried to mediate between them. Part of him wished they would stop, because if she became fed up with him, then maybe she would give back his phaser. …or she would break it. (Hm, on second thought, perhaps he would put up with the two mediating for a little while longer.) It was sometimes helpful to have someone unravel the enigma that was an organic teen girl, though. 

“I don’t even know what I did this time!” He’d said, after doing something to upset Shayne that caused her to threaten to damage his phaser less like a reminder that she could and more like an actual threat. 

Whiskey'd sighed, wondering if he actually had lucked out in having to take Aurox over Shayne with Reyna this time. “Okay, let me just say, right now, that this is something I don’t want to talk about again. And that I only know because I was really bored and there was this pamphlet about it.” 

“I already know about that. I’ve been dealing with her for a while. Why is she so sensitive about it?” 

The relief on his face could have been seen through walls. “Oh, that. Yeah, stuff like that just isn’t something you talk about in public, and not often with people of the opposite gender when you do. It’s a combination of not being very pleasant to go through, hormones, and some people using it as a reason not to take them seriously.” 

It hadn’t made him think her angered response had been appropriate just for him bringing it up, but it had made him willing to listen to her apology and drove home to never do it again. 

The other reason he actually bothered talking to him was out of respect for his skills in a fight. 

Granted, most of the Battleborn had managed to win some respect for him based on their ability to survive in the battles against the horrors that were the Varelsi. Even his kind felt respect had to be given to those who survived in fights against deadlier beings. But with Whiskey Foxtrot, there was a difference, one that perhaps only his fellow clone, Oscar Mike understood. He fought as though it was part of the way his existence was validated. Perhaps others did that, especially these days, but it was obviously looking at them that they’d been doing so for much longer. 

Whiskey Foxtrot, and later Oscar Mike, had figured out something very important on top of that, though. Sometimes, it wasn’t about what you were fighting for, it was about making sure you kept your opponent from hitting you back. Tearing your opponent into pieces before they could do the same to you. 

And that your toughest opponent was often the last one standing. He even helped him explain the logic of it to Shayne (because if he was going to be tied to her, she wasn’t going to die from stupidity under his watch). 

He would never go so far as to say they were “buddies” or anything like that. But Whiskey Foxtrot was among the beings he could be on friendly terms with, which was more than most could say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aurox doesn't really get why organic females need to be so damn emotional for a week straight every month. Well, he does, he just thinks it's stupid.
> 
> No matter what he says, though, he is shown to grudgingly care about Shayne.
> 
> As for Shayne, she's kinda torn between treating him like a partner and a pet, which is really not okay, and Reyna is trying to get her to stop doing that.
> 
> Shayne thinks she's much smarter at sixteen than she was at thirteen. Others would debate that.
> 
> I like to think all the clones have a soft spot for kids, since they were never kids and they kinda envy their childhood.
> 
> And for those who think they know what conclusion Shayne was going to jump to... I'm not saying she's had to do that before, but she definitely knows about that sort of thing. She's at least heard about it.
> 
> I think that, other than being fed once a week, Shayne and the other orphans were basically left alone, so they did a lot of scavenging.
> 
> Whiskey is probably the kind of guy who watches films with graphic violence, and talks about how inaccurate the blood is.
> 
> The smallest, but by no means less dangerous, member of the Battleborn is up next.
> 
> Comments are appreciated.


	9. Toby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby and Whiskey are total bros. That's all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the only Deande/Whiskey fics, Tango, has a great scene with Toby and Whiskey being friends, so this was a chapter I had looked forward to writing.
> 
> Italics means flashback.

At first, Toby had been really intimidated by Whiskey. The guy was, like, ten times his size, had shark-like teeth, and purposefully went around without a shirt wearing a broken helmet. You had to be pretty confident to go around like that. Well, or stupid, but Whiskey was actually reading a philosophy book the first time he saw him, so he figured that wasn’t it. 

So Toby had did the first thing he could think of; making himself seem as tough as possible so he wouldn’t pick on him by casually bringing up his death machine. 

Whiskey had responded by being genuinely impressed with this and asking if he could see it. Toby succeeded only slightly in playing it cool. 

He figured out pretty quick that, while he was dangerous, Whiskey was a pretty nice guy. While showing off Berg, he learned they both had issues with the UPR not appreciating them. Things just took off from there. 

Whiskey didn’t mind if he got emotional about things, because he was an emotional guy, too, so he knew that somethings you needed to just let it out. Even if he didn’t let on when he was scared, he never made fun of Toby for it (though he would tell him to be quiet if he had to), he listened if he was sad, and let him vent if he was angry. 

And he talked to Toby about things, too. He’d vent back to him (“Fair is fair!” Toby had told him), tell him stories about his life on the run, sometimes brought him pictures to put in his scrapbook, which he approved of (“World’s ending, doesn’t mean we can look back at the good stuff”), and treated him like a bro. 

That’s why, when he went through the simulator for Oscar Mike’s trials, and heard what that General Mike guy said about him, it hit him close to home and pissed him off. Toby had told him off for it, even if he knew he couldn’t actually hear and respond. Because just like that Clonestitution thing said, you had to stick by your bro. 

Whiskey had been really appreciative of it when he’d come out, apparently brought there by Oscar, who apparently liked seeing how other people did in the trial gauntlet, and Nova, because as long as they were living in her she could watch whatever she wanted. 

_“Seriously, I don’t think I could be happier if you actually said it to his face! Partly because of the possibility of him challenging you to a fist fight and then hurting you would have ruined the mood. But this!” He let out a bark of a laugh, “This was just the best!”_

Toby doesn’t get to see Whiskey in the flesh as much as he used to, since everyone is all spread out around what’s left of the universe now. Luckily, Whiskey’s the sort of guy who, if he’s friends with you, always takes the time to answer and respond to messages from you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not that Whiskey thinks Toby couldn't handle himself in a fight with General Mike. It's that the awesomeness of Toby defending him would be kinda ruined if he got hurt as a result. Plus, you know, it might cause a strain between their relationship with Planet Mike.
> 
> The idea of Toby going off on him comes from him going off on Rendain. It was awesome to listen to.
> 
> Two more chapters to go, and the next one is Whiskey's lady fair.
> 
> Comments are appreciated.


	10. Deande

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One's a Sustained Jennerit spymistress, the other is a crazy defective clone. Together, they make for a good couple and she's gonna tell you readers why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my OTPs for Battleborn. And it’s a canon one! This was fun to write.
> 
> What really won me over for this was the fic Tango. Go read it, it's awesome.

Deande couldn’t say for certain when she first became interested in Whiskey. Maybe it was after reading his profile along with the other Rogues’, and learning about his past, his will to survive. 

Maybe it was when she first saw him in person, and there’d been something about him that made him more impressive than other battle-hardened men she had met before. 

Maybe it had been when she’d introduced herself to the Rogues, and instead of shaking her offered hand, he’d gently taken it in his own and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. It’d been the first time he revealed there was more to him than what Reyna had chosen to reveal on the profile. 

Whichever moment it was, she had become interested in him, and she slowly found reason to spend time with him. They sparred, went on missions (which she didn’t plan, because the situation that allows them to know each other is not one where she can be selfish and risk the lives of others by doing so), had late night chats, and looked out for each other. Without really trying, they had started courting in ways that Jennerit society would find inappropriate, simply because it went against their own customs, and wasn’t needlessly complicated and or lacking in emotion. 

Whiskey was someone she could relax with, someone she could trust to save her if her strength failed, and who trusted her to save him if his did. He wasn’t afraid to carry her to bed if she was overworking herself, and she would sit in a chair next to him in the medbay if it meant he stayed in bed like he was supposed to. Because it scared her when he was hurt bad enough at the end of a mission to be in there, and he spent too long having to look out for himself and worry about any doctors possibly turning him over for one reason or another to be good and stay put the first five time he was told. 

She had been subjected to Jennerit courtship quite a few times before. Or rather, to attempts at it, as the would-be suitors only lasted until they realized that, no, they weren’t making any progress with her. Anything they had done for her had been obviously planned as a way to further themselves, and thus was ultimately selfish. Whiskey did things just to try to make her happy and spend time with her. 

He brought her flowers when he could, and learned to fold paper ones when it became difficult for him to find the time for that. He didn’t quite understand why she insisted on keeping his early flowers, which weren’t quite so neatly folded, but the effort and intentions made them perfect to her. 

He brought her food when she couldn’t take a break from work to go get it herself. He even brought her whatever gossip he heard to entertain her while she ate. 

He took looking after Constable Cuddles seriously, even if she’d given him the job to spend time with him, he said he wanted her choice to be justified to the other Jennerit. And he was far more adorable with that pug than he had any right to be. Honestly, though, he can be adorable without him, too, such as when he was flustered. 

If she wasn’t feeling well (while rare, it did happen), he’d read something to her. he’d read as much as he needed until she relaxed enough to sleep, even if she did make herself stay awake for longer just so she could keep listening sometimes. 

He told her pick-up lines with varying levels of cheesiness (even after they started dating), and came up with ridiculous nicknames, all just so she would roll her eyes and smile at them. It didn’t even matter if she heard them before, he was willing to sound like a fool just so she would smile and laugh. 

Sometimes, Whiskey would send her a message, telling her if he was going to sleep in his room, as an invitation to join him when she was done with whatever work she had for the day, or in her room, so that when she finally went to bed, her bed would already be warm and extra inviting. 

He could make her feel like a teenager, something she hadn’t been in centuries, and he had never really been. But it felt nice, watching horrible movies with him, or listening to him practice piano (occasionally being unfair to him by lounging on the piano in front of him, even if she wasn’t wearing revealing clothing), or going on walks with him and Constable Cuddles. 

There is a chance that some of the Jennerit under her have figured it out. She knows at least one guard does, having walked in on the two of them napping on a couch with the pug, and quite pointedly acted like he hadn’t see anything odd at all. The younger Jennerit, it would seem, are more open-minded about other species. 

In another world, in another life, they might be able to be together openly. Together, in world that isn’t at risk from the Varelsi, and they can plan for a future. 

But she’s happy to have him in however she can. Whiskey Foxtrot is her badass, defective clone boyfriend, and Deande wouldn’t have him any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if I should name that guard.... eh, I'll get to it later.
> 
> I like to think that Deande and Whiskey are a cute couple... who we all know have healthy sex life. Reason I didn't talk about that is because... well, we already know about it. Maybe I'll do another fic about that in the future.
> 
> Whiksey doesn't really have a problem with medics... Beatrix just freaks him out, and she's the one actually in charge of the medbay.
> 
> The next chapter came to me in an interesting place, and so our fic will end with Foxtrot himself.
> 
> Comments are appreciated.


	11. Whiskey Foxtrot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Whiskey gets a lot of reminders that he knows a lot of people, and they like him, they really like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there I was, struggling to figure out what to write for another chapter. Did I break the rule of only one member per faction that wasn’t the Rogues? Did I do one of the Mikes from Planet Mike? Did I do Constable Cuddles?
> 
> And then, in the shower, it hit me: do one where Whiskey gets support from his friends when he’s down. The basic idea was that he’s laid up in bed, and some of his friends send him get well stuff, with Pendles and Oscar having delivered it on behalf of the others, and Deande taking care of him. I added in Constable Cuddles, because while I couldn’t think of enough to write a chapter from his perspective, I wanted to include him.
> 
> Italics in this chapter mean "written in note", bold italics is because Orendi presses down really hard with pens.

Whiskey Foxtrot woke up aching more than he had in a long time, which if the memory of foiling an attempt on Deande’s life from some Rendain supporters was right, made sense. He vaguely recalled Deande and Rath showing up shortly before his body decided being unconscious was a good idea.

Deande doing paperwork in his room made sense. Not like it wasn’t something she’d occasionally done on Nova when he’d wound up in the medbay.

Pendles and Oscar Mike playing with Constable Cuddles on the floor… that was something he had a hard time figuring out.

“Welcome back,” Deande said, because of course she knew he was awake without him saying anything. Probably something to do with his breathing. Pendles probably knew too. Spies and assassins were supposed to be good at that sort of thing.

“I’m not dead, right? Cause ignoring the fact those two are here, I was expecting to wait for you when I got to the afterlife.”

She smiled as she moved over to his bed and kissed him above his third eye, “Flattery, you must be feeling better.”

“Does that mean we can give him his presents?” Oscar eagerly asked, quickly moving to his bedside to help him sit up without being asked, then deposited Cuddles on the bed.

“And since I won the coin toss…” Pendles grabbed his bag as he got off the ground, then moved over to and plopped down on the bed, handing him a package and a card. “Right, so, this is from our favorite dynamic duo and multi-eyed chaos witch.”

After looking between the two, Whiskey chose to open the package first. Inside was a knife sheath made of dark red leather, and a knife that looked like it’d once been some sort of talon or claw, with weird symbols carved into it that looked vaguely like the ones that sometimes appeared with Aurox’s attacks, and a hilt so red it looked like solid blood. Grinning widely at the weapon, he opened up the card.

_Dear Whiskey,_

_Heard you lost your knife_ (“Wait, what happened to my knife?” “Blade broke, dear”) _and got hurt protecting your girl, and I thought you might like a new one (knife, not girlfriend. The one you have rocks)._

_Anyway, this gift was a group thing. I decided on the gift, Aurox decided to kill a monster so we could use a claw for a blade. The awesome symbols on it are from him, and he said they basically translate to “flesh tearer”._

_**I MADE THE HANDLE AND SHEATHE! THEY’RE RED! YOUR FAVORITE COLOR!** _

_Get better soon,_

_Captain Shayne, Aurox, and **ORENDI ☺**    _

Deande looked at the smiley face next to Orendi’s signature, “Is that drawn with blood?” 

“Probably,” he replied, turning the knife over in his hand. “I’m gonna test this baby out…” he noticed the look on her face. “…as soon as I get a clean bill of health and not before.”

Pendles looked like the only thing keeping him from making a whip sound was the fact Deande was kinda scary, and there was a fifty percent chance he wouldn’t actually obey.

“Right. Anyways,” the defective clone placed the weapon and card on the nightstand, out of reach of the inquisitive dog, “What else you got for me, Pen?”

The Roa grinned and pulled a bottle out of the bag, the symbol of the Rogues on the while label. “Boss said you’d like this.” He tossed it at the bedridden badass, who caught it with only a bit of fumbling.

Frowning at the lack of the sound of liquid sloshing inside, he opened it and peered inside. Raising a nonexistent brow, he turned the bottle over so some rolled up sheets of paper slid out. Unrolling one revealed another note:

_Foxtrot,_

_I’m ordering you to take it easy right now. I’m gonna need you in top shape if I want to use you on a mission._

_If I were a crueler person, there would be a treasure map. Because I’m nice, I decided to just give you the treasure._

_Commander Reyna Valeria, because I’m serious about the order._

“They’re music sheets,” Deande said, having turned over the remaining sheets of paper. “I heard this piece, once. I look forward to a private performance one day.”

“Am I allowed to practice soon, or is someone gonna be watching the piano?” Whiskey asked, mostly joking. She responded by with a smile and a nod while she set the music sheets down.

“Ooh ooh ooh, give him Toby’s next, give him Toby’s next!” Oscar was all but jumping with eagerness.

Pendles rolled his eye, “He’s the only Rogue left, since my gift involved free assassination of the guy who got away.”

“So that’s why you’re the one delivering all this?” Whiskey asked with a grin.

“No, I offered for an excuse to stick around. Now, do you want it or not?”

_‘Trot,_

_I’m working on making one for everyone, but you get the first one!_

_Your friend, Toby._

Toby’s gift, as it turned out, was a music box that played one of his favorite tunes. “OMG, it’s the Rogues’ theme music!”

Deande raised a brow, “Theme music?”

“Long story. This is awesome!”

“He promised he’d make me one as soon as he was done with the rest of the boxes for the Rogues.” Oscar then shoved a box into Whiskey’s face, “This is from Nova. She thought seeing a recording of Toby telling off General Mike in that simulation would cheer you up, because of how creative his threats and swearing got!”

After taking a second to only be half as surprised by the fact Nova did such things as he thought he would be, Whiskey agreed to let Pendles listen to it with him later, setting it aside with the others.

The next one was a box with two packages inside, with Phoebe’s initials on the outer container. “Miko apparently can’t really leave wherever they are right now, so they asked Phoebe to come get it,” Oscar explained. “And she decided to take whatever Kid Ultra gave you with it. And Miko heard I was coming because she heard it from Thorn who heard it from Montana when he brought it up during their book club, and she suggested Phoebe just give them to me to deliver. You have no idea how many times I practiced saying that last sentence to make sure that all came out right!”

When the box was set down on his lap, Constables Cuddles immediately began sniffing the package with the LLC’s logo on it.

“Welp, the dog has spoken,” Whiskey said, pulling it out before the canine could try to investigate any further and quickly flipping open the attached note.

_Whiskey Foxtrot,_

_I was proud to hear of your heroic defense of Miss Deande! Please enjoy the enclosed vitamin C lollipops, because you’re more susceptible to illness when injured, and now would be a bad time to die of scurvy or the flu. The ragtag band of misfits known as the Battleborn only succeeds with all of the team!_

_Your Friend and Ally,_

_Kid Ultra._

“Wait, are all the lollipops that robot kid hands out like that? That certainly explains why he keeps pushing them on everyone, and the Rogues in particular.” Pendles muttered, having had to explain to him that for his kind, a diet consisting mainly of meat was normal and healthy. The fact that all that fruity stuff just tasted weird to him was a more minor reason.

“Wait, if I remember correctly, Galahadrim don’t get scurvy, do they?” Deande asked, raising a brow.

The two clones looked at each other. Finally, Oscar spoke, “We really didn’t have the heart to tell him that. And I like the flavors.”

“Same.” Whiskey said, reaching over to open a drawer to put the health candy in and out of the dog’s reach. “Let’s see what my favorite sentient fungus sent me.”

Miko’s note turned out to be inside their gift, a cookbook with a decent number of recipes written in their hand.

_Whiskey Foxtrot,_

_You asked us once if there were any recipes in the Archives. We believe these can still be made, and should be while there is still time._

_Miko_

“Well, I know what I’m bringing next time we all get a chance for poker! Well, I don’t, but I know where I’m getting it from!”

Before anyone could comment on that, Oscar all but shoved an envelope bearing the seal of Planet Mike into Deande’s face. “Sorry, that’s interesting and all, but this is sort of a time sensitive thing. I mean, it’s kinda for both of you, but it’s addressed to you officially.”

Whiskey gave him a look, while Deande took it from him and unfolded it, a soft smile appearing on her face as she read it.

“My goodness, Queen Mike has invited me to an upcoming ballet recital on Planet Mike. If I recall that simulation correctly, they practice the Jennerit style; it should be quite interesting. She’s specifically asked that you accompany me as my escort.”

Whiskey crossed his arms, “And why would I want to go back there? General Mike’s wife is the assistant director for that program. He’s going to be there, and I’m not putting up with that hypocritical-“

“And your presence is requested so that General Mike may apologize for ‘being a jerk’.” Deande continued summarizing.

“…fine. I’ll go to make you happy and get the apology.” He uncrossed his arms and grinned at her, “Guess I have an excuse to wear a tux again.”

“Then you better be a good patient so that you’re well enough to go,” She said. “Which reminds me, I need to change your bandages.”

“Aaand we are taking that as our queue to leave you two alone for a while.” Pendles started walking to the door. “Grab the mutt, Oscar. Let’s go bug Rath.”

“Think I could convince him to teach me to use a sword?” Oscar said, following with the dog in his arms.

“Well, having Constable Cuddles with you probably can’t hurt.”

Deande smiled at the thought of Rath actually giving in because of the dog (he wouldn’t, but it was funny regardless), shaking her head as she got up to lock the door and grab the new bandages.

“So… anyone think it’s strange that you’re looking after the guy you hired to look after your dog?” Whiskey asked as she returned to his side and unwrapped the old bandages.

“To be quite honest, I think their opinion of you has increased, since you managed to hold your own when outnumbered by Jennerit, all to protect one of the people who took down Rendain.” Tossing the old ones aside, she began wrapping the new ones around him. “And the ones who might suspect… well, beyond some knowing looks, they haven’t said a thing. The guard that we know knows has been asking how you are.”

“…you know, once upon a time, there weren’t that many people who would care if I got hurt like this,” he said, eyes getting misty. “And I wouldn’t have people taking care of me like this if they could help it.”

She was silent as she set down the bandages.

“And you know,” He said, not bothering to reach up to wipe the tears that were forming at the corners of his eyes, “Knowing so many people care… makes the pain worth it. You know, on top of saving you.”

The former spymistress climbed onto his bed, kneeling at his side so that he had to look up at her when she cupped the sides of his face in her hands to make sure he was looking at her.

“There are a lot of people who would miss you if you were gone. Many people are happy to know you. They like you, they really like you. And I love you.”

He smiled as she briefly moved a hand to wipe the tears from all three eyes. “Yeah, I know. I do, really. It’s just… nice being reminded. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And I love you.”

Deande smiled, closed her eyes, and bent her head, connecting their lips in a kiss full of warmth and love. Whiskey Foxtrot closed his eyes and let himself get lost in it all as he gently kissed her back, feeling whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, much like other fics I've come up with in the shower, this was fairly easy to write.
> 
> Kid Ultra is under the impression that, as space pirates, the Rogues don't get enough vitamin C. They do, they really do.
> 
> No, having a cute dog in his arms won't get Rath to agree to teach Oscar how to use a sword.
> 
> The theme music is exactly what it sounds like. Anyone actually takes that music and puts it in a music box tune, I will listen to that for days.

**Author's Note:**

> So, you got to the end? Wow!
> 
> Thanks for taking the time for all this. This is currently one of my longest fics, and certainly the one with the most chapters.
> 
> So, tell me what you think. I'm a little worried that the chapter contents are a little disorganized, but I tried fixing that as I went.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


End file.
